He had it all. He had everything I ever wanted and needed in another human being, and I hadn’t even met him yet. What started out as stares from across the room right before his band played somehow became “hello my name is…,” and then the after party and then the exchange of phone numbers. That turned into five-hour phone conversations every night and eventually became the giddy “I really like you!” “I like you too!” conversation.

We both had loved Taking Back Sunday, and TBS had just released a record called Where You Want To Be. This cd became our cd, and every song was another anthem for us. We spend countless car rides listening to that record, hand in hand as best friends and as a couple. We were kids in love. At fifteen and seventeen you’re sure you know all there is to know.

Then school started and things changed in a not-so-good way.

He became a senior who was rather mature for his age and I became a sophomore who started hanging out with the wrong crowd. Pot and pills began to play a big role in my life. One day I decided that I couldn’t be with him and my vices, so I gave him up.

A few months later I changed for the better, but not much. He and I got back together and it was bliss… for a few days. He was nothing short of perfect and I was nothing short of an immature train wreck. Once again, I messed things up. We continued to be friends, but I always did my best to make him feel like shit, flip-flopping on whether or not I wanted him.

Spring came around and we were together again, at least until a “friend” of his intervened and told me a bunch of things I didn’t want to hear. I called it off, only to find out that his “friend” was the one who was lying. We ended up back together and this time I didn’t want it to end. Things got hot and heavy and our relationship became more sexual. I was certain that he was the one I had to lose my virginity with.

His band played a show one night. We were all over each other at the venue, and after his set we went back to his house, headed straight for the basement and made out furiously. Clothes came off. The condom came on. And then: “Holy shit, that hurts!” Our steamy night came to a complete stop.

The next few weeks were weird. I assumed that he was mad at me for what happened, and we had many conversations about it. He swore it wasn’t a big deal, but in my large all-knowing 16-year-old brain I was sure that he was lying. Several idiotic phone conversations later he wanted to end things “temporarily” so I could get my head on straight and he could record a cd with his band in peace.

Sometime in late June he picked me up to go swimming at a friend’s house, and on the way I confessed that I needed him and didn’t want to be without him. But he only wanted to be friends. I cried hysterically and demanded he take me home.

Over the next few months we remained friends with the promise of getting back together, but then I started dating someone else and he lost it. I was too stubborn to give in, and once again, I hurt him even though I wanted him more than anything. For the remainder of the year we just treated one another like garbage, and then we stopped talking for about a year.

Finally, last year we became friends again. At the ages of eighteen and twenty we are able to have a friendship at last. I still love him and I always will: he and I have had that conversation many times since we became friends again, but these days we are dating other people. Still, when I hear Where You Want To Be it chokes me up and I feel like I’m fifteen again. There’s one song in particular called “One Eighty By Summer” that reminds me of him and all the mistakes I made. Every time I hear it I get this horrible knot in my stomach.

I think that knot will stay with me forever.